


Holiday Made for Two

by Astrophilla, sunshinewinchesters



Series: Destiel Christmas Advent Calendar 2015 [21]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 25 Days of Christmas, 25 Days of Destiel Christmas, Bottom Dean, Castiel duplicates himself, Christmas, Christmas Presents, Destiel Advent Calendar 2015, Double Penetration, Explicit Sexual Content, Gabriel Being Gabriel, M/M, One Dean, Smut, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Castiel, Two Castiels, duplication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 06:49:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5487710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astrophilla/pseuds/Astrophilla, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinewinchesters/pseuds/sunshinewinchesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean says all he wants for Christmas is more of Castiel, the angel takes his request very seriously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holiday Made for Two

**Author's Note:**

> Written by Astrophilla  
> Beta'd by sunshinewinchesters
> 
> Type: Canonverse AU, established Castiel/Dean, established Gabriel/Sam
> 
>  
> 
> **The twenty-first installment of our Destiel Advent Calendar!**
> 
>  
> 
> Additional notes:
> 
> This fic is based off of a Sabriel work, found here:
> 
> http://moorishflower.livejournal.com/182741.html

“What would you like for Christmas?” Castiel asked, tilting his head to look up at Dean from where his head was resting on Dean’s lap. 

Dean stuck his finger in the page of the novel he’d finally got around to reading, and half closed the book. “You don’t have to get me anything, Cas,” he smiled, ruffling the angel’s hair with his free hand.

God, he loved days like this, where they could just… be. There was nothing to kill, no one to save, and it was Sam’s turn to scour the internet for reports of anything ‘their kind of strange’, so Dean was free to stretch out on the couch, Cas spread across him, and enjoy the unfamiliar thing that was free time.

Castiel frowned up at him, and Dean traced the lines in his brow with a fingertip. “I know I don’t, but that’s irrelevant. It’s human tradition to give those you care for gifts, is it not?”

Dean chuckled. “Well, yeah, I guess.”

“Then what would you like?” Castiel persisted. 

“Hm,” Dean deliberated, teasingly. “If I could have anything?”

“Anything at all,” Castiel nodded.

Dean grinned, folding the corner of his page. “If I could have anything in the world for Christmas, I’d ask for more of you.” 

“More of me?” Castiel said, the perplexed frown reappearing as he came to sit up beside him. 

“Hell yeah,” Dean said, pulling Castiel in for a kiss, with arms winding tightly around his waist. “Can’t get enough of you.” 

There was a dull thud in the distance that he just about registered as his book hitting the floor, but like the brief conversation about what he did or did not want for Christmas, Dean quickly forgot about it. The sugar-sweet lower lip between his teeth, and the thighs straddling his own were far more captivating. 

Castiel, however, did not forget quite so easy.

*-*-*

“Gabriel? I need help.” 

“Hallelujah, I knew you’d come for fashion advice eventually,” Gabriel said, throwing him a grin over his shoulder. “I’ve been wanting to burn that trench coat for years.”

Castiel fixed him with a displeased look as he crossed the kitchen. “Don’t be rude.”

“I kid, I kid,” the archangel chuckled, turning back to one of the hundreds of trays of gingerbread men lining the counters, piping bag in hand. “What can I do you for?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Castiel mused, moving closer to observe Gabriel’s cookies from behind him. They were incredibly intricate and detailed, many of them clearly resembling their friends and acquaintances, along with a variety of monsters and weapons. 

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the blonde-haired, leather-jacket-and-jeans clad cookie that Gabriel was currently piping a scowl onto. 

“Vague,” Gabriel commented, licking spilt icing from the back of his hand. 

“I asked Dean what he wanted for Christmas this year,” Castiel began, frowning, “and he said he wanted more of me. I don’t… I wasn’t sure what he meant, and I don’t want to disappoint.”

Gabriel’s hands froze from where they were piping a tiny bowie knife in the gingerbread man’s grip. “More of you?”

“That’s what he said,” Castiel nodded. “I don’t understand what that connotes to humans.” 

“Huh,” Gabriel said, turning to him with a glint in his eye. “Well, remember that time me and Sam blew the power in Kansas?”

“Yes, the ‘freak electrical storm’,” Castiel replied, eyes narrowing. 

Gabriel snorted. “Or so the reporters called it. Wizard of Oz: The Sequel. In other words, Sam got his wish for more of me.”

Castiel deliberated his brother’s words, bemused. “Excuse me?”

“Let’s just say,” Gabriel grinned, “y’aint lived until you’ve double teamed a Winchester.”

Castiel’s eyes widened. “Double teamed? As in… I’m not sharing, Gabriel.”

“Don’t be dumb,” Gabriel said, rolling his eyes as he replaced a tray of baked gingerbread men in the oven with a raw batch. “I’m not suggesting you go Dutch.”

“I don’t—I only have one vessel.”

His brother shrugged, a mischievous look on his face. “That you do, but we got a whole lot of aimless atoms at our beck and call. I’m not saying we have omniscience, but,” Gabriel smirked, wiggling his eyebrows, “it’s pretty easy to conjure up a body double with a bit of practice. You expand your awareness, and, temporarily, ‘cos this shit takes a lot of juice, you’ve got Castiel times two.” 

“Why…” Castiel trailed off, entirely bemused. “You think Dean wants there to temporarily be two of me? That makes no sense. I can only foresee situations where that would cause confusion and inconvenience.” 

Gabriel tilted his head back to laugh, wiping at his eyes. “Ah, naivety. How can I explain it in layman’s terms,” he hummed teasingly, stroking his chin. “Okay, look.” 

He picked up a black haired, blue eyed cookie with gaudy white wings that he presumed was meant to resemble himself, and placed it on the counter, then picked up gingerbread Dean and placed it on top. 

“Here we have a hunter. Add an angel, and he becomes a happy hunter.”

Castiel nodded, understanding thus far. “He’s certainly more content when we’re together, yes.” 

Gabriel smiled, picking up a second trench-coated cookie and placing it on top of the other two, creating a small pile. “Here we have a second angel, identical in every way to the first. Add the second angel, and you have yourself one _very_ happy hunter.”

Castiel tilted his head, confused once again as he looked at the pile of gingerbread men. The two cookies supposedly representing himself sandwiched the Dean cookie, only his tiny blue jeans and boots visible between them.

After a few moments of deliberation, Castiel finally caught on. “ _Oh_.”

“And thus, the ball drops,” Gabriel giggled. 

*-*-*

“Cas? You coming to bed, buddy?” Dean called out, knocking on the door of his en suite. Castiel had been camped out in there for a good twenty minutes, and Dean wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing. The angel had refrained from giving Dean his gift that night with the rest of the family, promising instead that he could have it as soon as they were alone. 

From the lecherous look Gabriel threw him, and the quart bottle of lube he’d put in his stocking, Dean presumed Castiel’s gift was going to be something along the lines of lingerie or sex toys. And he was gonna be pretty damn happy with either. 

“One moment,” Castiel called out from inside, and Dean shrugged, wandering back over to sit on the bed. He began to undress, getting as far as stripping his shirt and taking off his shoes and socks by the time the door cracked open. 

Dean looked up, and was only slightly disappointed to see Castiel fully dressed, no sexy undies to be seen. He stood and made his way over to the angel who hovered in the doorway with a grin, pulling him into a kiss by his tie.

“So, can I have my gift now?” he asked lowly as he began to pull the tie from around Castiel’s neck and undo his top buttons. His mouth lingered along the angel’s sharp jaw, brushing their way down across the sensitive skin at the hinge, where Dean could feel the angel’s pulse beneath his lips. 

“You may,” Castiel said, voice deep and rough as hands came around his bare waist, stroking rhythmically down his back. 

Dean hummed contentedly, eyes slipping shut as he inhaled the heady, ozonic scent of Castiel’s skin. His hands fumbled to blindly rid the angel of his shirt as he mouthed at his racing pulse point, moaning as Castiel’s strong hands roamed his body. One came up higher, an arm around his upper back, thumb stroking circles across his shoulder blade. Another slipped lower, beneath the waistband of his jeans with teasing touches. 

He was starting to get uncomfortably hard in his jeans when fingers tilted his head upwards so that their lips could meet once more, and he was almost entirely lost in the dance of tongues and the slow, heady rutting of hips when his brain stuttered to a halt.

There was a hand on his back. There was a hand on his ass. And there was a hand on his face. 

The ministrations of his mouth ground to a halt, and his eyes blinked open. Cas’ own were fixed intently on him, as if he were something to revere, and it was almost too hard for him to pull away. But when he did, slowly turning his head, he couldn’t quite believe what he saw.

“Uh,” Dean gaped, at a loss for anything more intelligible. 

“Are you alright?” the two angels asked at once, one from inside his arms, the other pressed against his side, and Dean had to close his eyes hard for a second, shaking his head. When he reopened them, though, he was still seeing double. 

“I think I ate something bad,” Dean said calmly, turning back to the Castiel he’d just been playing tonsil tennis with. “I can see two of you.” 

Both Castiels—and fuck, was that a weird thought—let out a low, seductive chuckle. “No, you aren’t unwell,” the disheveled angel in his arms reassured him, smiling. “There are two of me.” 

“Oh. Well that’s okay then,” he deadpanned. 

Two angels. One with its hand in his pants, one with its lips heading for his throat. Two identical copies of his gorgeous angel boyfriend. Dean’s brain was going haywire, desperately trying to process all the information, all the stimulation overload, but grinding to a halt.

“Cas!” he jerked back from the open-mouthed kisses purpling the skin of his neck.

“Yes?” the Castiel plastering himself to Dean’s side asked. “Aren’t you pleased? This is what you wanted for Christmas.”

“What I—” Dean floundered, trying not to lose himself and moan at the ministrations of the angel laving at his throat, hands palming at his ass. “Wait, what?” 

“I didn’t initially understand what you meant,” the less undressed Castiel said, “but Gabriel helped. He said that Sam thoroughly enjoyed it when—”

“Woah!” Dean cut in, shaking his head. “Less of what my brother enjoys when your hands are in my underwear.” 

“Apologies,” the shirtless Cas said, fingers running around the waistline of his jeans to the fly. 

There were hands everywhere, one palming his cock, one stroking his ass, one rolling his nipple between fingers, one tugging gently at his hair, and holy shit, he couldn’t think straight, hips bucking involuntarily into the friction.

“Cas—both of you—stop,” he grunted out, struggling for breath. 

“What’s wrong?” they both asked, and yeah, that was pretty creepy, but they were fucking gorgeous and they were rubbing his rock-hard boner, and _fuck_.

They released him from their embrace, and he stumbled back before he forgot why he ever made them stop, collapsing onto the bed. “What the hell is going on? I’m tripping, aren’t I?”

The half-naked Castiel, Castiel 1? tilted his head, confused. “I duplicated myself.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Dean choked out. “Why? _How_?”

“You asked for more of me,” Castiel 2 grinned proudly, and no, that wasn’t okay, because Dean was starting to feel like a fucked up Dr. Seuss. “It’s only temporary, but I think I can make it last for a sufficient amount of time.”

Dean’s brow furrowed. “More of you? Jesus, when I said…” 

“It took some work, but it’s merely a simple rearrangement of reality.” 

“Right,” Dean said, dazed. “So which one’s the real you?” he asked, looking between them.

“Both,” they answered. “Only in my human vessel am I limited to the touch of two hands, and the sensations that come with a single body. For example,” undressed Castiel said, leaning down to press a long, lingering kiss to Dean’s lips. 

Dean almost whined when the angel pulled away, desperately hard in his jeans. 

“I can taste you on my lips, feel the heat of your mouth, without ever touching you,” the other Castiel, coming to perch beside him on the mattress. “I can worship every inch of you, feel every part of you at once. Really, it’s as much of a gift to myself as it is to you.” 

“Fuck,” Dean grunted. That was… damn, that was seriously hot. “So what, you wanna menage-a-trois?”

Castiel, the one with his chest bare, slacks hanging undone around his hips, pushed Dean back onto the mattress, climbing on top of him with predatory smile. “It would be my honor.” 

“Shouldn’t that be ‘our’?” Dean asked through a groan, head rolling back on the sheets as one of them, he didn’t know who, latched their lips onto his nipple, sucking it wetly and rolling it with his tongue. 

There was a low laugh somewhere by his head, and the mattress dipped as they moved. “It’s just me, Dean.”

They were both next to naked when he managed to crack his eyes open, so he no longer had any way of telling them apart. To be honest, he didn’t care. He was surrounded by not just one, but two copies of the most beautiful man he’d ever seen, and it was up there on the most fucked up things he’d ever done, but he was gonna dive in head first and soak it up while he could.

“I’ve invested a lot of thought into this,” a Castiel purred in his ear, the sound heading straight to his throbbing cock. “I know exactly how I want you.”

“Yeah?” he asked, voice low and breaking as he lifted his hips for warm, familiar hands to pull his jeans and underwear over his hips and down his legs. 

“Yes,” one of them said. “I considered every possibility. A mouth on your cock, another opening you up for me,” he whispered, hands spreading his legs. 

Dean complied instantly, whimpering. “God, yeah.”

“You like that?” Another deep, rumbling laugh, and Dean’s eyes rolled back in his head at the swipe of a tongue across his leaking cock. There were fingers in his hair, hands dancing over his hips and up his ribcage, and yeah, he was no stranger to threesomes, but holy fucking shit, was this on another level. 

“You haven’t heard the rest,” another voice came from higher up, by his head. “I want to be inside you, to be in your mouth, and in your ass. To feel you everywhere at once.”

Dean let out a pathetic whine. Cas was gonna kill him. 

“I want you to open me up, to fuck me, while I’m buried deep inside you. I want all of you,” Castiel rasped, plump, spit-slick lips meeting his own, licking at his tongue in time with the swipes at his cock. 

Dean hissed, attempting to buck his hips, though it was futile with so many hands pinning him down. “Some angel you are,” Dean croaked out, panting furiously. 

That low, throaty chuckle again, vibrating sinfully against his painful cock. “That’s not even the best one, the thought that nearly ruined me.” 

Dean tried to cry out, but it was muffled by those sinful lips. “Wha—?”

“I’ve spent the most time thinking about filling you up entirely, stretching you out, until you can’t possibly take more. I want you full of me,” the angel licking into his mouth breathed against him, one of the hands on his hips relenting to slip lower, squeezing gently at his ass cheek, fingers pulling them apart and stroking a line from his tailbone to his tightly clenched hole.

“Fu-uck,” Dean gasped. “You want—both of you?”

“Mmhm.” 

Teeth tugging at his earlobe, tongue lapping at the head of his cock, fingers digging into his ass cheeks, a single digit circling his entrance. 

“I—ah—” he mewled. “I don’t think I can, Cas.” 

“You can. I know you can.” 

The fingers circling his rim and the mouth at his cock disappeared, and Dean whined, cracking open his eyes. Before he could protest, he was being manhandled onto all fours, arms and legs so shaky he wasn’t sure he could hold himself up, and the globes of his ass were spread again.

His arms nearly did give way when a hot, wet tongue darted out to lap at his hole, but strong hands pulled him up, refusing to let him fall. He hardly knew what was going on, back arching and hips thrusting into the flat of Castiel’s tongue deliciously stimulating his nerve endings, but he definitely noticed when a scalding mouth encased the head of his cock. 

“Cas,” Dean choked, precarious rhythm of his hips stuttering as he was caught between the desperate, frantic need to push back on to the tongue tugging at his sensitive rim, and the lips tight around his cock. “Can’t.”

The angel mouthing at the flesh of his ass hushed him, fingers holding him wide, stroking soothing circles on his skin. The one sucking at his head leaned in to swallow him down deeper, tongue laving at the underside, and yeah, this was gonna be what killed him.

A hand retreated from his ass, but another quickly took its place, keeping him open and on display, and he could feel his cheeks burning with heat as his head hung between his shoulders, gasping for breath. Suddenly there was pressure at his hole, and a slick finger breached him, spreading his rim enough for that hot, evil tongue to slip inside. It pressed deeper and deeper, as far as it could, and Castiel sucked and licked until Dean was writhing, backwards, forwards, anyway his feverish body could thrash. 

“Beautiful,” Castiel murmured, hands running all over his sweat-slick skin. “My beautiful Dean.”

Dean choked on an inhalation when the tongue disappeared, only to be swiftly replaced by two thick fingers. The suction around his cock was strong and tight and constant, and the fingers inside him scissored and stretched him, until there were three, maybe four, and they brushed at his prostate in the way only someone who knew him intimately, inside and out, could do. Over and over, in steady circles, and Dean could barely control the wail that left his throat, the fingers of one hand tearing at the sheets, the other fisted in messy black hair. 

“I’m gonna—Cas, Cas, I’m gonna—” he wheezed, muscles seizing. 

“Let go,” someone commanded him tenderly, lips pressed to the divot at the base of his lower back, fingers fucking into him again and again, splitting him open. A harsh suck at the head of his cock, a tug at his balls, a thumb slipping back to press against his perineum, a calculated twist of fingers against his prostate, and Dean was pushed over the edge. 

His body convulsed wildly, muscles screaming as he was dragged under by the waves of sensation ravaging his body, every nerve ending in his body overloaded and frazzled. He would have fallen face-first if it wasn’t for the hands guiding him, moving his fucked out body—he could barely open his eyes, but he knew that he was in Castiel’s lap, legs spread either side of his bare thighs, cradled to his chest, head lolling over his shoulder.

“Perfect,” the angel breathed into his ear, fingers carding through the hair at his nape. “Gorgeous.”

Dean let out a pitiful noise, dizzy with Castiel’s scent from the way his nose was pressed tightly to the base of his neck.

A new set of hands brushed across his back, massaging his taut shoulders, and stroking down his limp, trembling arms. “I want to be inside you so much, Dean,” the Cas behind him rumbled, breath hot on his neck, chest pressed tightly to him. “Please, please let me.” 

He couldn’t say the words, couldn’t make his puffy, swollen lips move, could barely open his eyes. _Always_ , he thought, words a hazy mess inside his head. _Will always let you_.

And then he was being split open, so wide, and it hurt but it hurt so good. He was so full, Cas was everywhere, under him, behind him, around him, inside him, and he couldn’t even drag oxygen into his lungs anymore. His vision was swimming, he could hardly hear over the sharp, racing breaths and the desperate sobs; were they his? It didn’t matter, he didn’t care. His whole world was Castiel, and he was drowning, dragged deeper and deeper with every slow, luxurious thrust of Cas’ cock inside him, or cocks, he didn’t—so hot, stretched so _wide_ , and he was gonna… he was gonna...

*-*-*

It was nearly 12pm on Christmas Day, and Sam hadn’t heard a word from Dean and Cas. With furrowed brows after checking his watch for the twentieth time, he bypassed Gabriel where the archangel was prepping food in the kitchen, and made his way to their bedroom. 

He listened, but there was no sound from inside. Hesitantly, he raised his hand and rapped on the door. “Are you guys coming out anytime soon?” he called. “We’ve gotta start cooking, you guys are peeling vegetables.”

“Maybe you should leave ‘em a little while,” Gabriel snickered from where he had appeared behind him, arm winding around Sam’s waist. “They might need some time to recover.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he relaxed into the embrace nonetheless. “What? Why, what did you do?”

Gabriel grinned wickedly, leaning in to nip at Sam’s earlobe with his teeth. “Remember the electrical storm?”


End file.
